Convergence
by the Ambassador
Summary: The difference between two worlds...for one person, and those around him.  Anime/game 'verses, Sacredshipping, dark.
1. minaki and a ha, ha, ha

A/n: Well, here I am shipping the sacred again...and, for the first time since my unpublished prepubescent blatherings, writing something that is(partly)in the world of the Pokemon anime.

WARNINGS: this is probably the darkest fic I've yet written. Noncon, dubcon, seriously unhealthy relationships, plus the par-for-the course stuff; slash, mentions of homophobia, and semi-explicit sex. You have been warned.

I totally own Pokemon. I mean, I have a copy of HeartGold AND SoulSilver! ...wait, that's not enough? Darn.

* * *

**Conve**rgence

Minnie and a minnie and a ha, ha, ha  
Kissed her fellow in a trolley car.  
I told Ma, Ma told Pa,  
Minnie got a licking and a ha, ha, ha.

-anon, children's rhyme

_

* * *

_

Welcome to the world of Pokémon...

_Except it's not world, singular. It's worlds. Plural. Two worlds, both alike in the beasts that roam them, alike too in some of the people that live in them...but different, as well, and in very important ways. Big ways-politics and religion and history ways-and small ways. Personal ways. The ways of people._

_They converge. They diverge. Let me tell you a story, and maybe you'll see what I mean. Close your eyes now; put yourself aside for the moment. I'm telling you about someone(two someones), and for the space of this tale, as is ever the way with protagonists, he is you..._

_...You're seventeen, just. Living in Goldenrod City. You're at college, and all around you you see sexuality. Not sex, but flirting, dating, people talking about this boyfriend or that crush or that girl with the hot body. Normal things. Seventeen-year-old things._

_But you aren't part of those things; you can't be. Because the thing is, you're gay. You get crushes just like any of your classmates, but woe betide you if you breathe a word about them, if you even get caught looking at someone in the wrong way. You can't go up to that person you've been spending science class watching and daydreaming of, and ask them if maybe they'd like to go see a movie with you sometime, because the best you'd get is a punch in the face. You can't flirt, can't even smile, without endangering yourself._

_And you're frustrated, and you're lonely, and you're jealous, on the outside looking in, locked out of normal seventeen-year-old life. But you live in Goldenrod City, and so you know there are places, clubs and bars, where you can go without having to hide yourself. So you do._

_And you visit those clubs, those bars, and you're seventeen and nervous and you hope no-one will ask you for ID. The music that plays is loud and banging and repetitive-the sort of music you hate-and everyone there seems to be older than you. But this is meant to be where you're safe, right? So you stay with it._

_You drink water, or cola, because you're scared that if you try to order alcohol the bartender will realise you're just a kid, and anyway you're too nervous and edgy to want anything that might make your insides churn any more than they already are doing. You try to flirt with people, and you find you really don't know what you're doing, you're aware of the basic concept of flirting but how does that apply to someone like you, in someplace like here? You're scared of making a fool of yourself. You feel like a fish out of water._

_And then one night, someone catches your eye, across the bar, and comes to sit by you..._

* * *

"I haven't seen you in here before." The man is smiling; it's a nice smile, Eusine thinks. He has thick, dark hair, and dark eyes with laugh lines around them; his face is tanned in the real, rough-looking way of someone who spends lots of time outdoors, but his clothes are formal and elegant. A paradox, but a very attractive one. There's a silver fob-watch dangling from his jacket pocket.

"Maybe you just don't remember me," Eusine replies, and winces at the way his voice comes out small and unsure. He takes a sip of his orange juice to cover his nervousness, and wishes he'd had the guts to order something stronger.

The dark man doesn't seem to notice how flustered Eusine is, and makes a show of considering his words, instead. "Hmm...no. No, I think I would have remembered you." He smiles again; his teeth are very white. "It's not every day one sees someone so beautiful."

Eusine wonders if the low lights of the bar are enough to hide the way his face is burning.

"My name is Anton," the man continues. His eyes do not leave Eusine's face, and the boy cannot look away. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"My name's Eu-I mean, Minaki. I'm Minaki," Eusine whispers, remembering just in time to use his alias; then, the words slipping out despite himself, "Nobody's ever called me beautiful before."

"What a pity," says Anton softly, reaching out to cup the side of Eusine's face in one strong hand. Eusine shivers at the contact, but doesn't pull away, and doesn't pull away either when Anton kisses him.

First kiss; slow at first, and gentle, but firm and insistent. Anton's had plenty of practise at this, and plenty of practise coaxing virgins over their nervousness. Eusine gasps when those white, white teeth nip gently at his lower lip, and moans when Anton takes advantage of the unguarded moment to slip a strong, wet tongue into his mouth. It's terrifying, but it feels so good; so good, when Anton's tongue runs over his teeth, he'd wondered how this would feel, _dreamed_ of how this would feel, and none of his imaginings came close to the truth as Anton pulls him close so that he's straddling the older man's lap, arousals rubbing against each other and sending electric jolts up his spine. There's a hand carding through his hair, and another slipping up under his shirt to trace the outlines of his ribs and gently pinch one nipple, touches that feel so good, nobody's touched him except to give him bruises ever since he came out, _nobody_, and Anton's touching him now and it feels so good, so though Eusine's mind is screaming at him to stop and get away, _now_, that this is too fucking fast and he's getting in so far over his head, when Anton breaks off the kiss to ask him-

"Do you want to come home with me?"

-there's really only one answer he can give.

* * *

Anton's apartment is small and bare, with the shabby, unfinished look of somewhere rented-with-furniture. It doesn't fit with a man who wears designer suits and walks like a king. There are no signs that a person might be living here; no books, no ornaments, nothing personal. Not so much as a newspaper left on the table. This is not anybody's home.

Eusine remembers stories on the news of girls who followed handsome strangers home, and were never seen again. But Anton's not-he can't be-please, no-

(Under the harsh light of bare bulbs, Anton looks much older. Middle-aged. That's how the stories go; teenage girls who don't know what they're doing, and charming middle-aged men.)

Anton kisses him again, and Eusine's stomach twists with lust and sudden nausea. This is wrong-

Tanned, nimble fingers undoing the fly of his jeans, snaking inside and rubbing and stroking-

No!

Eusine shoved Anton off of him, hard, with the strength of pure panic, and-

* * *

-bolted for the door, terror turning his insides to ice as Anton roared after him "You little _bitch_, get back here!", lunging for Eusine with his handsome face contorted into a snarl, but Eusine's fumbling with the door-lock worked just in time, and he was out, running down the dirty concrete stairwell with his heart hammering, out of the apartment block and away, through darkened, electric-lit streets till exhaustion forced him to stop or collapse.

He had no idea where he was. There was an all-night diner open across the street from him; he hurried over to it, panting, needing desperately to be somewhere there were lights and people. The smell of food inside made him feel sick. He sat in a corner on his own, taking deep breaths and trying not to sob, expecting at any minute to see Anton through the plate-glass window, looming out of the darkness.

But Anton did not appear, and after long, hellish minutes of waiting and trying to get his composure back, Eusine managed to head over to the diner's payphone and call a taxi to take him home.

By the time the taxi turned into his own street, Eusine's panic had given way to numbness. He paid the driver with a hundred-credit note and didn't bother asking for change; he walked, or sleepwalked, up to his front door, hunted in his pocket for his key and let himself in. His mother and father were already in bed. He wondered absently whether it would have been better or worse to find them sitting up waiting for him, accusing.

The nausea had receded with the panic. Perhaps a warm drink would make him feel better. He poured himself a mug of milk, put it in the microwave to heat up, hunted in the cupboards till he found the _anijsblokjes_ his mom bought at the Sinnoh grocery store downtown, moving mechanically around the kitchen, blotting out everything else. (Much later, looking back, he would realise; he'd been in shock.)

The microwave went _ding_. He retrieved his drink and stirred two _anijsblokjes_ into it, went through into the living room to sit down. Marta the Growlithe, ancient, greying, deaf and half-blind, was asleep on the rug there. He bent to stroke her, and was surprised when she stirred under his hand, blinking blearily, then climbed effortfully up onto the sofa with him. Eusine balanced his drink carefully on the arm of the sofa and ruffled her ears. "You should be sleeping, girl," he told her softly.

Marta whined and nuzzled him, huffing dog-breath in his face, then jammed her cold nose into his ear, whimpering softly.

Eusine put his arms around the family Pokémon, buried his face in her fur, and began to weep.

**

* * *

**

-tried to bolt, but Anton caught him by the arm, and dealt him a blow that made his ears ring. "None of that," the other man said calmly, then hit him again while he was still reeling, not a punch this time but a slap round the face. Eusine's head spun, and the next thing he knew, Anton was pinning him against the threadbare couch, breathing into his face. "None of that," he repeated, then added, "Don't be such an ungrateful little bitch, such a little _**tease**_**, Minaki. You want this, you know you want it. You were begging me for it a moment ago."**

"**I, I," Eusine stuttered, trying to squirm out from under Anton, but though he was the taller one Anton was stronger and heavier and older, and he couldn't get free no matter how he tried. "I'm **_**seventeen**_**!" **_**I'm only seventeen,**_** he meant, **_**I'm not legal yet, I'm just a kid, I thought I was ready for this but I'm not, please please please leave me alone...**_

"**Seventeen," repeated Anton, as if mulling it over; then he smiled, that same smile that had charmed Eusine in the bar. "I **_**thought**_** you were underage. And you are a virgin, too, aren't you?" His eyes were pleased and indulgent and possessive and nothing remotely like human, as he dipped his head to lick and suck the pale skin of Eusine's throat. "Seventeen and a virgin," he whispered. "And so very beautiful."**

**Eusine whimpered as lips ghosted across his adam's-apple, then sobbed, hating himself. "Please don't kill me," he begged. **_**I'm only seventeen. I don't want to die yet.**_

**Anton actually laughed at that. "Oh, Minaki. I'm not going to kill you; why would I do that? I'm going to teach you. I'm going to make you feel good. I won't even hurt you..." Another laugh, then, dark and rich. "Or not **_**much**_**. Not if you're good."**

**He ground his hips against the teenager's, and Eusine cried out-couldn't help it, a ragged-edged sound, half wail, half moan...and that, perhaps, was when he gave in, and gave up.**

**He was never sure, later. Perhaps it had been then. Perhaps later. Anton kept touching him; not harshly, not leaving bruises or drawing blood, but with firm and horrible gentleness. Kept kissing him everywhere, telling him how beautiful he was, how he was going to like this so much, if he'd just relax and do as he was told...**

**Perhaps it was when Anton led him, too sick inside to resist, into the apartment's one tiny bedroom, pushed him down to the bed and began to strip him; slowly, as if savouring the task.**

**Perhaps it was when fingers entered him, one, two, three, and hit **_**something**_** inside there that made him throw back his head and shriek-made his hands fist in grimy sheets as a second later Anton did it again, and again-**

**Perhaps it was when he came, keening desperately deep in his throat, tears wet on his face, loving it and hating it in equal measure, disgusted at himself and shaken to the core.**

**It wasn't really important, which exact moment it was when it happened. What was important was that it **_**had**_** happened.**

**That Eusine had been broken.**


	2. dog in the machine

A/n: Aaand here's chapter two. Chapter three is a work in progress as of yet, but(gods willing)should be posted soon. See chapter one for warnings/disclaimers.

* * *

Conver**gence**

_Deus ex machina_: Latin, lit. 'god in the machine'

* * *

Eusine spent the next day at home. He couldn't face anything else.

He told his mom what had happened to him, or nearly happened. His voice shook as he recounted it. _Please_, he prayed inwardly, _please understand._ His mother _had_ to understand-surely-please, please let her forgive him, comfort him and give him a hug the way she used to do, before she found out her son was something she couldn't bear to touch-

The sharp blue eyes he'd inherited looked at him, weary and annoyed and disappointed, and his mother said, in tones of fraying patience, "Well. What did you expect-going into one of _those bars_, of all places. This is beyond a joke, you know. Can I hope that _now_ you'll stop this childish rebellion, now that you know what perversion is really like?"

Eusine stared at her, helpless, pleading. "Mom, you don't mean-I can't change what I am, Mom-"

"Obviously not." His mother's gaze was cold. "Your grandfather would turn in his grave," she added, before turning on her heel and leaving.

Her son buried his face in his pillow, and lay completely still for a long while after that.

* * *

**Eusine woke up the next morning, aching in body and mind, to find a Persian regarding him from atop the wardrobe. He hadn't noticed it, last night; hadn't known Anton had any Pokémon.**

**The Persian leapt elegantly down onto the bed, and padded up to sniff his face investigatively. He flinched, slightly; tried to put out one shaking hand to stroke it, but the cat made a noise of disgust, and bounded away. He couldn't blame it. The stink of sex in the air was overpowering. It felt like he'd never be clean again.**

"**Don't look like that," Anton whispered in his ear, making him flinch. "I know you enjoyed it."**

**Eusine closed his eyes, wincing, because he had-part of him **_**had**_**-he couldn't deny it. He'd writhed and arched like a whore, and this-this was his fault. It **_**had**_** to be his fault. He didn't have any right to be upset. He didn't have any right to anything at all.**

**Anton kept him there for the next three days.**

**If 'kept' was the operative word. **_**After all**_**, Eusine thought to himself bitterly, **_**it's not as if he's keeping me prisoner. It's not as if I'm even **_**trying**_** to get away. **_**On the second day, he was allowed to phone his parents, to let them know he was all right. A kidnapper wouldn't do that, surely. The video function of the phone was turned off, but that was his choice. Anton made breakfast for them, ordered in food for lunch and dinner, talked to Eusine about Pokémon training, and politics, and business. He was a businessman, Eusine gathered. Some sort of businessman.**

**And they had sex. Over and over. On the bed, in the shower, bent over the kitchen table-but Anton was ever the gentleman. Never violent, always careful. Eusine just wasn't allowed to say **_**no**_**, that was all.**

**So this was what sex was like, the teenager thought; what it was **_**really**_** like. It made his dreams...his little romantic pathetic dreams...look stupid beyond measure. He'd had no idea. Well, he tried to tell himself. It wasn't too bad. Not really.**

**He began talking back, when Anton asked him about himself; told the other man about his life. His family. And, in an unguarded moment, as he rutted against Anton's hand like a beast in heat, his real name. There was no point in trying to turn back now.**

"**I shall see you again," Anton told him, when he finally left. It was not a promise. It was a statement of fact.**

* * *

The clothes smelled of mothballs, very strongly, but that would be all right after they'd been aired out.

_Once upon a time_, Eusine thought, smiling, _my grandpa wore these; in Sinnoh, at his contests. He would have been wearing them when he met my grandma._

Eusine didn't remember Grandma Kikyo, who died before he was born, but he remembered his grandpa. Petar van Haarte, born in Hearthome City in Sinnoh, trainer and Contest star. One Master Rank Beauty Contest, one of his opponents was a girl with a Growlithe who he'd never seen before, a girl with a Johto accent, wearing not a Sinnohgirl's formal gown but an embroidered kimono. He beat her and the rest of the competition, but it was a close-run thing, and afterwards he went over to talk to her...boy meets girl; some things are inevitable. They wrote letters to each other, visited as often as they could, and finally Petar left the Contest Hall and Hearthome City and the whole Sinnoh region behind, and followed his girl down to Johto. And, in the fullness of time, became a father, and then a grandfather.

Petar had doted on his grandson Eusine. "He looks just like my Kikyo," he used to proudly tell anyone who would listen, "look at him-the very spit of Kikyo!" Kikyo had been small, dark-haired and dark-eyed and golden-skinned, whereas Eusine was a pale little daddy-long-legs with hair the colour of milky tea. Most people put the old man's opinion down to senility.

But not Eusine. Because it was to Eusine, and Eusine alone, that Petar explained himself. "You have the same eyes," he'd told his grandson, once. "Not the colour-my Kikyo's eyes were so dark-but the shape, and the look in them. See there, in that photo? My Kikyo, she loved life. She loved so much, her eyes shone with it, with happiness, and love, and bravery...and temper, she had such a temper, that she did!" Petar cackled, eyes misty with remembering. "Just like some other people I know, hmmm?"

Eusine, aged seven, had blushed and scuffled his feet. "I didn't _mean_ to bite Dad," he'd confessed. "I'm sorry. I just got mad."

"Well, maybe you should tell _him_ that," Petar replied humorously. "And leave biting to Pokémon and mosquitoes in future. 'Respect thy parents', the scripture says, even if they do send you off to school in return."

Petar had converted to Johto beliefs even before he married Kikyo. He'd been an indifferent Sinnohchurch-goer, but the Johto scriptures had spoken to him, quite aside from the fact that Kikyo herself was a devout shrine maiden. Petar passed those beliefs onto Eusine; accompanying the child to the shrine down the road on every holy day, sitting by his bedside to tell him stories of the gods and their servants. Petar's own son had been apathetic towards religion from day one, but Eusine took to worship like a duck to water.

"You're like me," Petar told him, on occasion after occasion. "Sinnoh blood, and Sinnoh name, but a Johtoman at heart." And little Eusine would always glow and puff his chest out with pride, at being called a man at the tender age of five or six or seven.

Petar had died, in his sleep, at the age of eighty. Eusine had been almost exactly one-tenth as old.

He didn't know what his grandfather would have thought of him being gay. No, he corrected himself, he was _scared_ to know. But perhaps his spirit understood, now? Perhaps there were no such prejudices in the spirit realms, if the gods were truly good. And his grandpa had loved him. And he'd loved his grandpa back. Maybe, if the will of the gods allowed it, all would come right yet.

When Eusine van Haarte left his house and his home for the last time, to head to the holy city of Ecruteak, he wore the purple tuxedo and short white cloak that his grandpa wore, in the ancient sepia photographs of him winning Contests at Eusine's age. The clothes fitted him perfectly.

**

* * *

Anton didn't like seeing his-lover? Pet? **_**Mistress**_**?-go about in the typical Goldenrod student uniform of jeans and t-shirt or sweatshirt. He had different ideas about what a bedmate of his should dress like. And what Anton wanted, Anton got. Particularly if it had to do with Eusine.**

**Anton had taken over Eusine's life.**

**The older man wasn't around all the time. Sometimes he'd be gone for a month or more-'business trips', he'd claim. But he always came back, and he always wanted the same things from Eusine, and more of the same things. He could demand anything. He did demand-everything. Eusine was his. The marks on the boy's skin said so, and the fact that he kept coming back, time after time, said so even louder.**

**Anton did give Eusine things in return. Besides the sex, if you could count the sex. He gave him an Abra, and after that, advice on how to train it. He gave him money. He'd more or less given him the rented apartment in Goldenrod-Eusine spent more of his time there, now, than at his parents' house, even when Anton wasn't in town.**

**He gave him clothes. Formal wear; not as subtle and understated as his own dark suits, though. Everything he presented Eusine with had metallic flashes running through the fabric, or rich colours, or ruffled trim. Anton was very fond of carefully divesting Eusine of such finery, unwrapping him like a gift. A very genteel fetish, compared to some.**

**Not that there weren't other types of clothing, in the closets of that Goldenrod flat-outfits that never left the room or saw the light of day. And he certainly took plenty of pleasure in them. But it was the formal wear that he returned to, when dressing his human doll, time after time, like an old friend.**

**Eusine-as ever-got used to it. He had to, after all. He couldn't see any other alternative. And after awhile, it began to seem natural.**

"**I like you in the purple," Anton purred, one long, slow afternoon. "With the bow-tie, and the cloak. Wear that for me." So Eusine did.**

**The clothes fitted him perfectly. Of course they did. It was Anton who bought them, after all, and Anton knew the dimensions of Eusine's body by heart.**

* * *

"Why do you chase Suicune?"

It was Morty that asked, his only and dearest friend, the Ecruteak Gym Leader with heavy-lidded purple eyes and a smile so warm it felt like coming in out of the snow to a roaring fire. And because it was Morty, Eusine answered.

"To prove I'm not impure." He hesitated, then asked, "Why do you try to bring back Ho-Oh?"

"To set the world to rights." That grin, mischievous and confident. "And to prove that I'm strong."

"You don't need to prove that, oh Mystic Seer of the Future," Eusine told him very dryly; and the pair of them laughed.

**

* * *

**

On Eusine's nineteenth birthday, he'd expected that Anton would give him some 'present' that would keep him in the bedroom all day. Instead, unexpectedly, he took them both outside the city, with their Pokémon-Anton's Persian and Rhydon, Eusine's Kadabra-to train and talk. Subjects of no importance, at first, and then, the bombshell dropped-

"**I am leaving for Saffron tomorrow. I would like you to come with me." Anton paused for effect. "I want you to work for me, Eusine."**

**It took Eusine a few seconds to understand what his ears were telling him. "Work for me-I mean, for you?" he repeated, stupidly.**

"**My...company...has need of new blood," Anton explained. "And I have need of a personal assistant. Your exam results may not be up to much-"**

_**-and whose fault is **_**that, thought Eusine with a flash of bitterness, **_**I kept missing classes because you wanted to fuck me-**_

"**-but you are nonetheless intelligent, and a promising Trainer, and well-versed in many **_**other**_** skills..." The smile he gave Eusine was full of unselfconscious, possessive lust.**

_**Skills that might get me a job in a **_**brothel**_**-**_** But Eusine could already see the shape of the future, could already feel himself capitulating. Anton was still talking, about the fine prospects within his...company...for an intelligent young man, about the generous salary he'd receive and the chance to change the world, and Eusine realised at long last, the knowledge sliding into his brain like a shard of ice, that the only change he really wanted to make to the world was for Anton to be **_**gone**_**. But that wasn't a change he'd ever have power to make.**

**He didn't want to work for Anton. He didn't want to be a secretary-whore in a 'company' he'd guessed long ago was deeply illegal, for Anton cared not a fig for legality. But that didn't matter, because what Eusine wanted never had mattered, and even if he'd had the option to say no he didn't know how to anymore. Anton got what he wanted, he always did, and there was nothing that could stop him-**

**(Kadabra's clawed fist clenched on its spoon, it raised its muzzle and let out a cry, a telepathic cry, a cry for help to the large Presence that the Psychic Pokémon could feel racing through the woods to the north-'**_**save my trainer**_**'-)**

**Something did.**

**Something was blue-blue and white and purple and shimmering-light refracted off it like a crystal, pure beautiful **_**angry**_** light. The wind had changed suddenly, from a light sou'-west breeze to a full-on blizzard down from the north, like a punch in the face, like being hit by a car, a blizzard in the middle of May. It howled, and Something howled too, screaming cold fury into Anton's face. The wind got stronger, impossibly-Eusine fell to the ground, curling up defensively on grass that had frozen solid, a million tiny brittle knives. He heard Anton shouting-heard his Persian yowl in terror and his Rhydon roar, but the Something was howling, and the wind was howling, louder and louder, drowning them out, and there were the gunshot-noises of ice breaking, the crystalline glow was growing brighter and sharper, and Eusine squeezed his eyes shut, blinded, but he could still see it through his eyelids-**

**And then silence. Silence like the end of the world.**

**He opened his eyes. Frozen grass below him, and above, a white, furry belly; Something was standing over him, protectively. He blinked, dazed.**

**The Something bent its head back to look at him through its forelegs. Its eyes were red-very old, and very wise, and they had tears in them. It nudged him gently with its nose. Checking that he was all right?**

**He didn't seem to be hurt. He crawled slowly out from beneath the strange beast, and was immediately pounced on by Kadabra. His Pokémon had been sheltering against Something's side, he realised; it looked just as shell-shocked as he did. It clung to him the way it had used to, before it evolved; when it was a small, nervy Abra that seemed to be scared of everything.**

**The clearing was covered in frost. Ice shards studded the tree-trunks, like broken glass after an explosion.**

**Anton and his Pokémon were nowhere to be seen.**

**Eusine smoothed a hand over the top of Kadabra's head, between its ears, trying to calm it. "Is...Is he dead?" His voice came out small, and cracked-sounding. He wasn't sure what he wanted the answer to be.**

**The Something stood poised in the middle of its handiwork; it looked at him, and shook its head no.**

"**But...but he's gone. For now."**

**Something nodded.**

"**...I won't go back to him."**

**Another slight nod from the Something. **_**Good**_**.**

**Eusine took in a deep, shaking breath, a breath of awe and fear and uncertain relief. "What are you?"**

"_**Suicune**_**," said Something, in a voice like glass bells, and was gone before Eusine had even seen it move.**

"**Suicune," repeated Eusine, and clutched his Kadabra to him very tight.**


	3. violets and blues

A/n: And at last I get to the really Sacredshippy bit.

WARNING: this is dark as hell. Includes noncon, dubcon, abusive relationships, and drug abuse.

* * *

**Conve**rgence

Roses are red  
Violets are blue  
I have a boyfriend  
And so do you.

-anon, children's rhyme

* * *

Morty and Eusine were friends first and foremost.

They prayed together in Ecruteak's grand temples, played chase with Morty's ghosts, went out to the Routes to train and catch Pokémon, tried to teach themselves to cook and failed horribly(Morty succeeded in the end; Eusine didn't), made jokes that nobody else understood, spent long nights talking together till the sun came up. They could talk about everything and about nothing.

Eusine had never felt so warm, or so safe.

(Sometimes Morty's hand would brush against his, accidentally, and he'd shiver; sometimes Morty would smile and look at him, look at him like he was the holy sunrise, and he'd forget how to breathe.)

(He didn't guess, until the day that Morty kissed him, that his friend felt the same way.)

* * *

**Morty and Eusine were never friends. Not really.**

**Fuckbuddies, maybe.**

**Though in fact it was more complicated than that. Morty was Eusine's friend, but Eusine was not Morty's. Eusine was nobody's friend. Eusine didn't have time or room in his heart for friendship. All the passion he'd once possessed, all the capacity for emotion, he spent on the hunt for Suicune.**

**Eusine thought that Morty could be useful to him. He was the Ecruteak Leader, well-versed in the legends. He was a seer of some renown. He had sleepy, heavy-lidded bedroom eyes, and swallowed when he sucked, and made the most wonderful, delicious noises when he came.**

**Morty wished that Eusine would open up to him. He hoped that he might, someday. He would have given up everything he had-his gym, his clairvoyant gift, his Pokémon, his entire life-for that. For Eusine just to **_**talk**_** to him for once-**_**really**_** talk to him-for that obsessed and bitter soul to explain what had made him that way, to let Morty hold him close and guard him against his demons.**

_**There's more to you than this**_**, he would think, watching Eusine rant about how he would make Suicune his, and his eyes were full of yearning that Eusine never saw. He cared about Eusine. Too much.**

* * *

Their first time was clumsy and desperate and drowning. They got lost in each other; the tears on their faces mingled. Somewhere in there, blue eyes met purple, glazed over with lust and wonder and terror; love is the most frightening thing in the world. Somewhere in there was a sharp intake of breath, a moaned name, and seconds later a long, sobbing wail of release as nails dug into Morty's back.

After that night, Morty heard that sound many, many times, and he always thought it beautiful.

It doesn't matter what the position; sex always involves that moment of letting go, of helplessness, of losing control. Eusine always fought desperately to keep his composure, trying to stay on top of the sensations; and always, all at once, the wall would break, and he'd surrender to it, keening out his need and pleasure.

Losing control was scary, but oh, it was worth it. With Morty, it was worth it.

Afterwards, when the drowning waves had washed them both high and dry on the shore, he'd trace fingertips over the slight, reddened marks he'd left on Morty's skin with teeth or nails-_did I do that?_, pressing soft kisses to them in loving half-apology. And Morty would hum deep in his throat, smile at Eusine with those hooded purple eyes, and kiss him in return-shoulder, clavicle, the hollow at the base of his throat-tracing the marks _he'd_ made, sometimes grazing the still-tender skin with the tips of his teeth. A reassurance, and a promise, and an invitation. _Mine. I'll never leave you. I love you. Want some more?_

**

* * *

**

Marks, always. Bruises on pale skin, sometimes blood drawn, sometimes fistfuls of strawberry-blond hair torn out. Eusine didn't believe in being gentle.

**Morty gave as good as he got; that was the way Eusine liked it. Soft, slow touches just infuriated him; he'd be even rougher with Morty in return if he tried anything of the sort. He'd do things that really hurt, then-things that would leave serious marks, marks Morty would have to hide-put on a scarf to conceal the hand-shaped imprints on his throat, stay home from work so that nobody could see how badly he was limping-because people would ask questions if they saw, and they wouldn't understand...**

**It was love, after all. It was all done in love. Or something like it.**

**It wasn't that Morty didn't **_**like**_** rough sex. He was satisfied with the way things were. Satisfied-ish. It just wasn't...he wasn't, really...not quite.**

**...Well, he was always going to be more vanilla than Eusine. But that was a minor concern. Anyway, he had ways to deal with the pain. He was a seer; nobody in Ecruteak would look askance at the dreamweed he grew in his garden. Mystics used it to help them enter other states of consciousness, had done for generations. It was perfectly legitimate and legal. And when he was floating free of his body in trance, the pain didn't bother him. It was somewhere else, far away from him. He didn't have to worry about it.**

**And then there was the little bottle in his medicine cabinet, half-full of little blue-and-white pills...but those were only for emergencies. For when it was really bad. They weren't for everyday.**

**He didn't often use them.**

**Hardly ever.**

* * *

"Morty," came Phoebe's voice over the phone, patiently. "You are my friend, and I love you, but why the hells are you calling at four in the fricki-fracking morning? Remember we have talked about_ time zones_. What's so important that it couldn't-"

"_He said yes_!"

"Oh my SKY!" The Hoenngirl's voice raised to a delighted squeal. "Do you mean what I think-you do, don't you, oh my land! This is awesome. This is so awesome. Say you'll let me be a bridesmaid!"

"Phoebe, there isn't a bride," Morty pointed out, laughing.

"Aww, so you're not wearing that lovely frilly poofy thing Fantina's been sewing for you? She's gonna be crushed!"

"Frilly poofy-" Morty's eyes went wide with sudden horror. "Oh gods, do you mean she was _serious_ about that-"

"...Gotcha!"

"PHOEBE!" Both Ghost trainers dissolved into helpless giggles.

"So when're you coming over here?" Phoebe asked, once she'd managed to get control of herself.

"...Actually," replied Morty, sobering up, "we're not. No offence to Hoenn, Hoenn is cool. But we're both Johto guys, and we want to get married Johto fashion."

"Huh?" Perplexed. "I thought gay marriage wasn't legal over in your neck of the woods."

"It's not." Morty grinned to himself. "We're going to do it anyway."

"You mean in secret?"

"No-oo. Not particularly." The grin got decidedly wicked. "Actually, we're gonna be rather public about it. We may get on the news. 'Gays Invade Bellchime Trail'-"

"_Invade the Bellchime trail_? Morty, this could get you in trouble-"

"'With Help Of League Champion'-"

"So Lyra's in on this?"

"It was Lyra's idea. She's the one who's gonna get us in there. She says she's thought of an utterly foolproof distraction. And we've found a priest willing to officiate-he's been excommunicated for his views on this sort of thing, but he's not given up in the face of that-and yeah, there could be trouble, but if there is then it'll have to go up against pretty much the entire Tohjo League, 'cause everyone's gonna be there. And Lyra hasn't actually _said_, but given that it's _her_, I think there might be some miracles about to happen-"

"Miracles? –Ohmyland. You don't mean-"

"I know. I can hardly believe it myself. But Lyra's got that look in her eye, and she's hinted...I think the priests might finally be presented with definitive evidence against their old prejudices. I mean...gods forgive me if I'm wrong...it'd be hard to go against the Rainbow Sunbird, right?"

"You mean Ho-Oh would-"

"I can hardly believe it...but for Lyra, it might. It just might."

Awed, breathless silence reigned on both ends of the line for a while; then Phoebe began to sniffle.

"...That's...that's beautiful! I'm sorry, it's just...I can just imagine it, all the bells ringing, and Ho-Oh shining, and you both, and everyone cheering or gobsmacked...I'm invited, aren't I? Tell me I'm invited! It doesn't matter if I'm invited or not, I'm coming anyway!"

"Hey, steady on!" Morty laughed. "Of course you're invited. Do you really think I'd leave you out?"

"You'd better not! –Oh, this is going to be so beautiful..."

Morty's grin became a soft, shining smile. "Yeah. It is."

Phoebe chuckled. "You've got that look again, haven't you?"

"Huh?"

"That goofy, besotted look. The one you always get when you're thinking of Eusine. You know the one! You really do love him, don't you..."

"You know I do." The smile got wider.

"He's been so good for you. I remember when you were all fake bravado and scared to tell anyone you were bi, or to really talk about _anything_ important, and always just trying to keep your head down and not make waves, but all that changed after you met him. You've become a fighter outside of Pokémon battles, and you've gotten so much more confident in yourself..."

"He's been an inspiration to me," Morty admitted. "He says I gave him strength, but that's all wrong. He's always been the strong one, the brave one-the one who sticks by what's right and never makes a bad compromise, never gives in. And-and he's so loyal, and true, and kind, and...and just _perfect_...and he loves me-_me_!-and I still just can't believe it...and he said yes, Phoebe. _He said yes!_" His face was shining with love and awe and pure, unalloyed joy; at that moment, Mortimer Adams was one of the two happiest people in Johto.

**

* * *

**

Eusine was furious, and the fact that Morty was no longer trying to argue with him only made him more furious still.

**The seer was so pathetic. Insulting Eusine like that-insulting his noble quest-and then trying to go back on it and say **_**sorry**_**. Not believing he could capture Suicune-calling his attempts foolish and misguided-he had no faith in him. Well. That showed what he **_**really**_** thought of him, didn't it? Obviously he despised him, thought himself **_**better**_** than Eusine. The little bitch.**

**He didn't give a damn about Eusine really. Nobody gave a damn about Eusine really! Especially not this snivelling, faithless, traitorous Ecruteak bitch.**

**He didn't need him.**

**Look at him, standing there. Pretending to cry, as if he thought Eusine would be fooled by that, the manipulative whore. Acting hurt, when he'd just been trying to destroy Eusine. Asking questions that were none of his fucking business. **_**Had something happened to him**_**, indeed! Morty didn't know how to keep his nose out of what didn't concern him! He just wanted to poke and pry and find a weak spot, somewhere he could twist a knife. Well, he wouldn't bloody find one. Eusine wasn't a victim. He wasn't anyone's pity-party. And he was definitely nobody's tool.**_** (Not again.)**_

**Stupid whore, pitiful whore, filthy double-crossing disgusting **_**wretch**_**, he didn't care a jot for Eusine, obviously! He was only pretending, in order to try and control him-to stop Eusine achieving his objective and catching Suicune! He was just jealous, afraid that Eusine would be stronger than him when he had a legendary under his command! Stupid, prideful **_**Gym Leader**_**-how did someone as pathetic as that get to be a Gym Leader anyway? Maybe he'd slept his way into the position. Depraved little cheat.**

**When Suicune was his, he'd show him. When Suicune was his, he'd show all of them-**

"**Please," said Morty, quietly desperate and nursing a black eye. "Please, Eusine-I love you-"**

**Eusine got very, very still.**

_**He says he loves me. He says he loves me. He says-**_

_**NO! He's LYING!**_

"**YOU DON'T LOVE ME!" Eusine screamed, shaking with rage. "YOU COULDN'T IF YOU TRIED! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT LOVE IS! YOU COULDN'T LOVE ANYONE! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A DIRTY SLUT WHO'LL SPREAD HIS LEGS FOR ANYONE THAT COMES ALONG! HOW DARE YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME? YOU DISGUST ME! I CAN'T BEAR TO LOOK AT YOU! I WISH YOU WOULD JUST **_**DIE**_** SO THAT I WOULDN'T HAVE TO LOOK AT YOU ANYMORE! YOU'RE WORTHLESS! YOU'RE **_**NOTHING**_**! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"**

"**I-"**

"**RIGHT NOW!"**

**Morty fled, weeping silently; Eusine watched him go, his fury not abating, then stormed out himself.**

**Morty cried himself to sleep that night.**

**Eusine had nightmares, faceless beings rising out of the darkness to swallow him whole, hands that held him down and a lazy, possessive chuckle. It was Morty's fault, of course. He always had nightmares after fighting with Morty.**

* * *

The vision faded, and Morty blinked, disorientated as ever by the sudden transition back to the physical world. Then he shuddered.

"Hm?" came Eusine's voice from beside him. "Morty? Wha'tiz'it?" Blue eyes regarded him sleepily with an expression that was sweet and open and gentle, sharpness gone and defences down for the space of this warm, safe moment.

And just like that, Morty relaxed. This was what was real; right here, right now. "I had one of those visions again," he told his fiancée. "You know-the other us."

Eusine, who'd heard about _those visions_ before, winced, eyes clouding over with sadness. "They aren't us," he murmured. "I love you."

"I know," Morty replied, softly. "I love you too."

"...If I ever get like that..."

"You wouldn't. You never could."

They cuddled closer, and soon fell asleep again, and the vision was just a vision. It wasn't real, and everything was all right.

**

* * *

**

**The vision faded, and Morty blinked, disorientated as ever by the sudden transition back to the physical world. He sobbed, not wanting it to go.**

**Everything had been **_**perfect**_**, in the vision. Eusine had been there, and he'd been so-so warm, and loving, and...and everything Morty knew he was, deep down.**

**He knew, he **_**knew**_**, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all the spite and anger he got from Eusine wasn't really him. He remembered the Eusine he'd seen sometimes, in visions. He remembered the occasions(so brief, and fewer and fewer as time went by)that he'd seen something like that, a shadow of that warmth, in **_**his**_** Eusine.**

**Those times would come again, wouldn't they? If Morty could only love Eusine enough. If he could only prove that he loved him. And then everything would be perfect, just like in the visions.**

**The bottle of pills was sitting by the side of his futon, where he'd left it earlier. He took another two, then lit the charcoal of the incense-burner and put a generous clump of dried dreamweed into it. He had to get the vision back. Had to find out how he could help Eusine, how to give him what he needed. **

**Had to be able to pretend, for a little while longer, that everything was all right.**


End file.
